tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56295295539841794732024-03-13T19:01:22.263+00:00Wave after WaveWhat the tide brought in.Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-14103882312857303052019-07-19T12:38:00.001+01:002019-07-19T12:38:28.822+01:00Operation Ouch<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I'm not gonna deny it,
I thought by the time I hit middle-age I'd be reaping the financial
benefits of landing a highly trained professional as a husband.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
But alas, life had a
more frugal existance in store for me. My naive young-self
eventually gave way to my more mature responsible-self and has since
embraced a life of bargain hunting and money saving. Every
opportunity to make/save a few quid is celebrated. Sometimes such
opportunities present us with a bit of a quandary;
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Do we spend more and
invest in something that will last us longer?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Would we prefer to save
time over money and pay someone to do it?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And our most recent
dilemma; Would we rather risk life and limb or get the professionals
in?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A continual scratching
sound in the ceiling of our bathroom had alerted us to the presence
of something that was living in in the cavity betweeen our ceiling
and roof. Further investigations (AC looked outside) revealed we had
a wasps nest. AC formulated a plan to rid us of our lodgers. The plan involved climbing onto our roof through the skylight, shimmying one's way upto the outer edges of the roof and then fumigating them with
ant powder.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The only problem with
AC's plan was his extreme fear of wasps. And heights.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Unable to come up with
any alternative solution (see video below), I put Operation Ouch into
motion.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwsF0ilLwtwJ6cPHTGfA3QyTBW8PNClduHz9fp4UfTY6zEbA9CX4-9XuQTsAxHucMHG9JdhS8r0cAX7BL2CIA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<br />
Donned in my PPE, I revelled in <strike>the opportunity to out do my husband</strike> my role as Family Fummigator.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTe05O2K_CiFFWFksCKuwMNwHGkwIrhFoEiHQZTWsD8NpkEuZ2vwF_4qheI2H0vUH75N5SaITTbmQkTv0gJFOluvOWOOlJcvH-BwHlqnQBl9UKjMVp4J_1i9tDFbB4irnnQTZUYsGGn80/s1600/20180721_134349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTe05O2K_CiFFWFksCKuwMNwHGkwIrhFoEiHQZTWsD8NpkEuZ2vwF_4qheI2H0vUH75N5SaITTbmQkTv0gJFOluvOWOOlJcvH-BwHlqnQBl9UKjMVp4J_1i9tDFbB4irnnQTZUYsGGn80/s320/20180721_134349.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Your PPE isn't going to protect you if you<br />
if you fall off the roof" Grandma</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Grandma was right, although eager to get one up on my oldest dependant, I was very mindful of my other four. I used the utmost caution as I made my way towards the entrance of the wasps nest, my leg hooked inside as I made my way from bathroom to roof, and kept an arms length away form the roof's edge. AC's contributions were limited to shouting instructions from the ground.Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-11203644622726773602014-12-29T21:29:00.000+00:002019-07-19T12:45:25.625+01:00Sam, Sam, The Funny Old Man<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My Grandad's legendary status is perpetuated further still by the fact that he achieved it whilst still alive. As a youngster I knew
that Grandad could not be equalled in knowledge, strength, or
ability. My childhood was jammed packed with proof of just how awesome this man was.<br />
<br />
An engineer by profession, Grandad was a man of sagacity, and he was always on standby when we had a problem. He helped us to find answers and reach conclusions under the vigor of our own mind. He understood the worth of self sufficiency and wanted to equip us with life-skills.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Having a healthy body was up there on Grandads list of important attributes. Upon every visit to Gran & Grandad's, Grandad would present himself for a punching. We children lined up awaiting our turn to thrust our fists into his stomach as hard as we could, all the while Grandad goading us to try harder.<br />
And, if ever something needed fixing, making, or pealing, he was onto it. With the aid of his trusted penknife no diy task was beyond his reach.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
However, it didn't suffice for Grandad to display such prodigious traits alone, he wanted to instill such important qualities within his grandchildren. Having attained such stature himself, the rest of his life was dedicated to helping us reach such heights too.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It's only as an adult, with the
experience of time, that I can recognise and fully appreciate the love and
dedication that Grandad gave us. I now know that he cannot be surpassed in
devotion, fervency or love.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzr9GO8Pt4-QWNal4zuIEeLIHGtcN0BPmEk55bREu1d7Ab41xlgof3iUheAWhiHxeR_kzHFkxnKAykcpZuwnqNnyZFI6Kd8iMAyEjaDVSjSSbaIzE2u6q430mI0-bpD67wlUpO42myD6o/s1600/171116_1783073743908_1451400346_1924594_8032192_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzr9GO8Pt4-QWNal4zuIEeLIHGtcN0BPmEk55bREu1d7Ab41xlgof3iUheAWhiHxeR_kzHFkxnKAykcpZuwnqNnyZFI6Kd8iMAyEjaDVSjSSbaIzE2u6q430mI0-bpD67wlUpO42myD6o/s1600/171116_1783073743908_1451400346_1924594_8032192_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandad Sam <br />
1920 - 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-734056187996318782014-12-14T19:36:00.000+00:002014-12-14T19:41:59.070+00:00Roma<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
2014 saw the celebration of our 10 year
wedding anniversary. The day itself was overshadowed by the general
hubbub of our busy life together.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The only way to escape the bustle of
our daily lives and give the occasion its due glorification was to
take an extended child-free weekend away, or so AC said.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A child-free weekend for us meant a
child-full weekend for Team Gran & Poppy. Confident in their
child-minding capabilities they readily accepted the challenge of 4
kids for 4 days, allowing us to make definitive plans in preparation
for our 10 year celebratory tour of ROME! </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The nearer the occasion drew the more
excited we grew. Like the A-Bomb counting down the days till his next birthday, we began the countdown to our highly anticipated time away.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
"This time next month we'll be eating ice-cream for breakfast"</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
"This time next week we'll be
sightseeing by chariot"<br />
"This time tomorrow we'll be shaking hands with the Pope"<br />
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQOo4DA6LkcSev4WkYeXbe8G02MwgYiiizO7Er6Ms1LjsCxwxkG_OsSEjNXbQdWKHtoPMYGkp-5M4ZaPb9NnTEmUdXfPPUnQDiq88EYyMWir9jse0WJqyks8snhyphenhyphenkoiZmGJAoMyTR-L8/s1600/IMG_4943a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQOo4DA6LkcSev4WkYeXbe8G02MwgYiiizO7Er6Ms1LjsCxwxkG_OsSEjNXbQdWKHtoPMYGkp-5M4ZaPb9NnTEmUdXfPPUnQDiq88EYyMWir9jse0WJqyks8snhyphenhyphenkoiZmGJAoMyTR-L8/s1600/IMG_4943a.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That time at the airport just before we boarded the plane with our neighbours.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking to the heavens to be saved from my husbands fastidious examination of<br />
every ecclesiastical artifact in Rome.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAjfTBwZg31CZI9rKEMlVL1slWNNQX5JJCkPD9Q4XHQEmNRBgMTg3bv9goTAYMSdC8s0IXpGn9FJhyphenhyphenLCvUapTeKcnN8ljEsEciBqd86AlTCV5_KGmIw7SuqJho6thH3h0p2jHOfkNysU/s1600/IMG_4964a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAjfTBwZg31CZI9rKEMlVL1slWNNQX5JJCkPD9Q4XHQEmNRBgMTg3bv9goTAYMSdC8s0IXpGn9FJhyphenhyphenLCvUapTeKcnN8ljEsEciBqd86AlTCV5_KGmIw7SuqJho6thH3h0p2jHOfkNysU/s1600/IMG_4964a.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That time Aaron had a run in with the local law enforcement.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That time we visited the Trevi Fountain and it was hidden by scaffolding.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aaron checked it out on Rightmove. It wasn't To Let.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That time at the Colosseum when local criminals provided the entertainment. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That time on the Spanish steps.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That time AC caused a scene with his exhibitionist tendencies.</td></tr>
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As opulent and breathtaking as the city was, nothing is as attractive or as awe inspiring as the creations we made ourselves. <span style="text-align: center;">Dearly missing our 4 little darlings (and concerned for the toll we knew they would be taking on Team GP) we were just as excited for our departure home as we were for our arrival in Rome.</span></div>
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Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-12080608199692133772013-08-30T20:47:00.000+01:002013-09-01T18:07:32.333+01:00Long Time, No Blog.<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Both AC and I are from large families
which was probably a contributing factor in our desire to have a
large family ourselves. Offspring - I wanted at least six. Whilst AC
never committed to a figure he seemed comfortable enough with
statements such as 'Imagine having to buy a mini bus to fit all our
children in'.</div>
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All these much thought and talked about
plans (mostly by myself) lasted only until we became pregnant for the
first time. Nothing could have prepared us
for the horrendousness that lay ahead. The physical and emotional turmoil that persisted for those long 9 months made life almost unbearable. Rendered completely useless by the parasite growing within, I would vow to never put myself through this again.</div>
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However! The only emotions that could ever overpower my distaste for pregnancy would be my fervent desire to have a family and be a Mother. And with the arrival of each of our 4 babies, what seemed to have been the greatest of sacrifices seemed then to become the greatest of privileges.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqPuYbZ68hFbVqmN-2pQS06yN90GOOaKIXFaA5EiXB07hVImPErvYU3ygCm3_5EwbCEPWnzekVI3FtoFkurPsbMQBnedHMvKdOmyLSW49ARI22ZwEOGMKZ35g5sDJEztTg4blN38t6Z1E/s1600/IMG_3325a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqPuYbZ68hFbVqmN-2pQS06yN90GOOaKIXFaA5EiXB07hVImPErvYU3ygCm3_5EwbCEPWnzekVI3FtoFkurPsbMQBnedHMvKdOmyLSW49ARI22ZwEOGMKZ35g5sDJEztTg4blN38t6Z1E/s1600/IMG_3325a.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The H-Bomb, born 18 April 2013, weighing 7lb 2oz.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The H-Bomb aged 4 months.</td></tr>
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Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-79670101043671610952012-08-18T20:23:00.000+01:002012-08-18T20:23:34.067+01:00Dribbly BloodLast week whilst training for the Olympics (doing laps around the dinning room table) The A-Bombs head finally met it's match. The radiator was able to do what concrete slabs, an enforced glass window-screen, and Shemily's aggressive tendencies could not.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9VvbeGoKtZ32zVteAPsGN6C5Asg72yVwuJEsvZPIO8ucO3alyIip1oUDnPjmjKzn3ygoWp-0fmqkmtJ8AnBsnZuv7mJlZmEKL0diZnh_NS-Y8bBCpSV315MvSukrLAw4Dr-gyz5rAevs/s1600/IMAG0773a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9VvbeGoKtZ32zVteAPsGN6C5Asg72yVwuJEsvZPIO8ucO3alyIip1oUDnPjmjKzn3ygoWp-0fmqkmtJ8AnBsnZuv7mJlZmEKL0diZnh_NS-Y8bBCpSV315MvSukrLAw4Dr-gyz5rAevs/s1600/IMAG0773a.jpg" /></a></div>
The A-Bomb fell head first into the radiator and cut his head open: blood was gushing, tears were streaming, and he was screaming. This distressed Missy greatly. It pained her to see her brother in such a state. All our attempts to soothe him were in vain. So it was with great sincerity and compassion, with tears of her own, that Missy declared 'I would take this pain and have it for you if I could'. And she meant it.<br />
The sentiment was lost on the A-Bomb who understandably couldn't think about much more than the pain he was in. But to her mother, in those tense moments, it melted my heart.<br />
<br />
More recently Missy has been the one suffering (with illness). There she was, sitting on the sofa, exhausted by her troubles, and crying with pain. I extended the same words with the same sincerity that she had offered The A-Bomb only a few days prior 'Darling, I would take your pain for myself if I could'. And I meant it.<br />
<br />
Missy looked me straight in the eye and with such fortitude, defiantly replied 'I would definitely not let you'. Then I was crying too.Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-40249189814411105192012-08-14T20:30:00.001+01:002012-08-17T08:46:49.301+01:00An Unusual and Very Special Family EventEach year since we've been married, motivated by the happy memories we'd be creating, AC
and I make plans for our annual family camping trip. This year we were planning to exceed and better all previous endeavours, we would do more than
plan and talk about it, we were actually going to do it!<br />
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Before other events could interfere
with our long overdue camping expedition, we booted up the
computer and created a New Event in our Google calendar. All that was left to do now was book AC some time off work and Missy some time off school.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...admittedly a little last minute</td></tr>
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K-Camp 2012 also happened to
coincide with the wettest July in (my) living memory. Not once in any of
our 'planning sessions' did this trip involve us getting wet. We
abandoned our good intentions and postponed KC 2012. However we didn't want to waste the day AC already had booked off work. We put our planning hats back on and opted for a day trip to the lake district.</div>
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<br />
Our children are explorers. Whilst most of their exploring is about exploring the limits of parental emotions and physical capacity, a large portion is left for the world around them. Wanderers through the ages have claimed lands, raised flags, and left their mark on the territories they stood. It seems our children have followed this noble tradition in a less dignified but nonetheless enthused way. Keswick was claimed and conquered by the unified efforts of all three of them. However the frequent urinating in no way detracted from the fun we had in Keswick.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing mountains</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pulling faces</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Failing to take a decent family photo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fishing</td></tr>
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The cabin cruise was the highlight of the day. Just ourselves and the A-Bomb's full bladder for company. As extravagant as a cabin cruise sounds the only luxurious thing on board was Shemily's flowing hair. There were no on-board facilities available, so when The A-Bomb said he needed the toilet in the middle of the lake.... it was with great enthusiasm that he added a small portion of his water to the vast supply on which we floated.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AC struggled to relinquish control</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another unsuccessful family photo</td></tr>
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The British weather was reliably unreliable. We'd counted on it being wet and miserable and instead it was dry and glorious. Our only regret of the trip was that we didn't take our tent with us.</div>
Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-63122870874498449572012-06-06T17:13:00.000+01:002012-06-11T13:02:54.057+01:00Self-SufficiencyThe kids, who between them spend every minute of every day wearing us out, were finally in their beds and AC and I could finally take a breath and relax. I chose to unwind by having a practice on the piano (glorified Keyboard). I quickly became absorbed in the music before me, and then just as quickly became distracted from it; not by Missy singing her sister to sleep, or Shemily's screams in response, neither was it the A-Bomb's request for a large dollop of cucumber. It was the nagging of the other dependant; AC.<br />
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Earlier that Day the postman had delivered AC's most recent ebay purchase - a catapult.<br />
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<br />
It wasn't enough for him to be down in the garden all by himself - he needed someone to whom he could show off.<br />
Within minutes he was back upstairs pleading for me to go down and play aswell.<br />
I politely declined his invitation... about 20 times!<br />
He changed his strategy. <br />
He came and stood over me and watched me. A simple act of defiance which I find unbearable.<br />
A risky strategy as he could have just as easily enraged me as persuaded me. In this instance I was persuaded to join him in the garden for some target practice.<br />
<br />
As soon as I picked up the catapult, I felt like someone else. Like I was...Katniss Everdeen. As the weapon came into my grasp it was like a new skill descended upon me. Everything slowed down, the wind dropped and everything was still. With absolute focus I drew back the elastic. In my mind I projected the image of the targeted (Plastic) watering-can exploding with the devastation of my skill. The pleasure of this projection could only be matched by the thought of AC's face when he realised the universal awesomeness of me.<br />
<br />
It took a few more shots than I'd planned to hit the target. Nonetheless I felt I'd demonstrated some degree of awesomeness and smugly handed the weapon back to Peeta... I mean AC. With his first shot he sent the watering can flying. Then to prove it was not a fluke, did it again!<br />
<br />
Ironically I found this display of dominance to be of comfort. <br />
As deadly as any of the career tributes, AC could take down any threat or intruder by way of catapult and stone alone.<br />
Now, instead of popping to the supermarket when short of food, I can just send AC out into the wilderness to hunt down a meal for us.<br />
The catapult will now make up a very important part of our (non-existent) survival pack.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shemily and Lucy<br />
entering the wilderness behind our housing estate</td></tr>
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<br />Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-58684526327197645882012-04-28T17:57:00.001+01:002012-04-28T17:57:40.349+01:00SkillsLast month I recieved what has to be the best birthday present AC has ever splurged out on. It exceeded every expectation his previous gifts had roused within me; carnations, a plastic giraffe, bollywood style earrings, turkish delight.<br />
I thought last years <a href="http://leftbythetide.blogspot.co.uk/2011/04/london-calling.html">surprise</a> was just a blip in his track record.<br />
I was wrong.<br />
This year I unwrapped this beauty...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_G-vEMDK8JfRe7a_eHJKDD06l7YoE_Kf8aQZRTuchChenbtouItl_M9XsxpGdDCPVHRjevLVZoiEL2lGaZuQDjD1tPNTdH1N1NxQ2ItsAPk1GBq2RLwY8H3M3IZ9HddhyphenhyphenVapyknNmzI/s1600/IMG_0233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_G-vEMDK8JfRe7a_eHJKDD06l7YoE_Kf8aQZRTuchChenbtouItl_M9XsxpGdDCPVHRjevLVZoiEL2lGaZuQDjD1tPNTdH1N1NxQ2ItsAPk1GBq2RLwY8H3M3IZ9HddhyphenhyphenVapyknNmzI/s1600/IMG_0233.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phwooooar!</td></tr>
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It wasn't completely unprompted though. My recent introduction to <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/">pinterest</a> opened my eyes to a world of craft beyond scrap-booking, cross stitch, and vinyl letters. My eyes were able to behold the glories that could be created with a sewing machine; bags, skirts and dresses! This prompted the occasional semi-serious request to AC for a sewing machine of my very own, which he very swiftly dismissed. Little did I know he was secretly storing my request away for my upcoming birthday.<br />
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The Saturday following my birthday AC made sure I had some time to try out my Singer 2250. I don't recall having ever used a sewing machine before. After 2.5 hours I had yet to successfully thread the machine up. AC came to the rescue with the aid of his Yr 8 home economics skills. I know I should have been grateful, but his excessive gloating (which continues even now) turned any appreciation I had into annoyance.<br />
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Since those initial teething problems it's been full speed ahead. I've left AC and his rudimentary abilities for dust (though he still continues to offer his assistance!). Admittedly my skills aren't quite up to speed with my enthusiasm... yet!<br />
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A recent late night sewing binge produced my greatest creation to date...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Junebug dress, as widely pinned on pinterest.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ever-willing model</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She'd wear it all day every day, if I let her.</td></tr>
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<br />Being able to produce something that is both functional and beautiful leaves me feeling ever-so accomplished and oh-so grown up.Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-57493329286024015092012-04-06T07:37:00.001+01:002012-04-08T16:08:10.644+01:00Down at the Farm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Fluffy Bunnies, Baby Chicks and Spring Lambs. Eager to witness the miracles of spring we readied ourselves for a morning at the farm. With our groupon voucher to the ready we took our marks and departed. Considering this was our first trip to the farm of the year, the kids were rather sedate... which was fine by me. I would rather they conserve their energy for when we arrived rather than bickering over who's touching who in the back.<br />
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The best thing about this farm was that it was only a 10 minute drive away. Knowing that if The A-Bomb had one of his emotional melt downs we were only 10 minutes away from home was an added comfort.<br />
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On arrival, before we'd even paid for admission, the kids had launched themselves into the play area. Not even the baby sheep with their overprotective 'come near my baby and I'll take you down' mothers were enough of a distraction to coax the kids from the standard, nothing they've never seen before, playground.<br />
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In the end we had to physically drag them to see the animals. But the animals were protected by a barrage of plastic ride on tractors, an impenetrable barrier that the kids could not resist. The next 20 minutes at least were spent riding around the courtyard whilst I apologised to parents for The A-Bombs lack of spatial awareness. No one was safe from the torpedo like activity of our over-excited 4 year old.<br />
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We never really got to spend time doting over the bunnies, chicks, or lambs; the animals almost seemed like a side-line to what else was on offer. However our time there was still fun filled with a plenitude of exciting activities. There was so much more to this farm than animals, very little of which incurred any extra cost. Hurrah.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An oversized Hamster Run for Children</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Giant inflatable slide</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Milking the plastic cow</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barrel ride</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipwFqso3gr6kjb0QiKe1hX0s8E0kxHdfhlnNH0wDnBPV_KJ2Eu-x4q29Z5M9lEY2zXSHk_vjZAngu4oYfAUcxPb0_p-6DdbKDPw3KCIDmKuZPkZhencrhdZMVOkbTFPAncQUSi7IRRvOk/s1600/IMG_0004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipwFqso3gr6kjb0QiKe1hX0s8E0kxHdfhlnNH0wDnBPV_KJ2Eu-x4q29Z5M9lEY2zXSHk_vjZAngu4oYfAUcxPb0_p-6DdbKDPw3KCIDmKuZPkZhencrhdZMVOkbTFPAncQUSi7IRRvOk/s1600/IMG_0004.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The photo's fails to capture the frightening speeds at which <br />
these kids were travelling!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-25784227109801615242012-03-10T08:27:00.000+00:002012-03-13T08:11:45.536+00:00Morning Angst<div>
Whether we're up late because our 'alarm clocks' slept in, or are awake early because one of them chose an unusually early hour to arise, there is more often than not a degree of stress involved in our morning routine.</div>
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Whether we're rushing around trying to make up for lost time, or have time to spare and have to convince Shemily to keep her clothes on for an extended period of time, we're for the most part able to keep the kids in high spirits.<br />
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Whether we have to decide between the moral musings of Twilight Sparkle in 'My Little Pony' or the more intense antics of Steve Irwin in 'The Crocodile Hunter', we're pretty good at avoiding any contentious squabbles.<br />
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Whether they have to eat weetabix or on special occassions coco pops, we're able to convince them of the goodness in both.<br />
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However, when it comes to the receptacle from which they are to eat their breakfast, there can be only one...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwtP1r6PGFfIyBPd0lWrQvY1bBnn-7e4L1CbW8g79i7cow7IM8gmOrUCCDg_WO_2-vSs5Cj56CNX1nEy5wiAQR-697l0xzNqMP8xHZWObU7V83DRNmXBX2evwCg-6w8mvPaVWNo7nusE/s1600/320+h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwtP1r6PGFfIyBPd0lWrQvY1bBnn-7e4L1CbW8g79i7cow7IM8gmOrUCCDg_WO_2-vSs5Cj56CNX1nEy5wiAQR-697l0xzNqMP8xHZWObU7V83DRNmXBX2evwCg-6w8mvPaVWNo7nusE/s1600/320+h.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The White Bowl</td></tr>
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To our kids, eating their breakfast from the sterile porcelain of 'the white bowl' is like supping from dynasty china. Its like being 'star of the week' or attending a members-only club. It is exclusive and much of its value is derived out of the want from other people. It means you have made it and you are at the top of the food chain, or in our case the 'breakfast chain'. It is, the One Bowl to Rule them All.
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We have tried buying bowls carefully marketed for our childrens demographics...buzz lightyear, sleeping beauty, dinosaurs. I may as well have presented them a 'Gordon Brown' bowl for all the excitement it produced.
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<br /></div>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-49532695176409740652012-01-30T19:33:00.000+00:002012-01-30T19:33:56.616+00:00Super Gran<br />
I'm 6 years old. It's the weekend, and I'm excited. Not because there's no school for two days or because Going Live is on television in the morning. It's because I'm staying at Granny & Grandad's house. Dad drives me over and my excitement doubles with each minute that passes. No sleepover has ever matched the excitement or come close to the feeling of pleasure than those I spent with Granny Grace and Grandad Sam. And it's not because our time together was jammed packed with trips to the swimming pool, skate park, and bus station (occasionally, they were). Rather it was filled with everyday tasks that were done with the love and warmth of doting grandparents.<br />
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Granny was always happy to see me, whether she was brushing my teeth or refusing my requests for more Jaffa Cakes, it was always with a smile. Her inherent good humour was infectious and it was nigh on impossible to be sad in her presence (even in my teenage years!). A sleepover at Granny's was a luxurious experience. She was an accomplished hostess, not least because of her bed making skills. The electric blanket, copious layers of bedding, freshly fluffed pillows, and a large stuffed toy made bedtime all the more appealing. I would willingly retire to the warmth of the spare room to be tucked in, then lulled into a state verging on slumber as she sang me a lullaby before finishing the day by saying my prayers with me (for me).<br />
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Inevitably the end always came to each sleepover we had. It was always with a pang of sadness and a longing for the next that I said goodbye. I feel that same pang now but it's kept in check by the excitement bubbling within me as I look forward to the next time we're together.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHyXHHRvjQHezRsa7FaoX6Rl0MmCvezyOMPrAYa2DxDLLRA5FS9dWf5wIxVzUCOEW_ABn7hjmAquWLA5Pc8t6y0nplR0ZV6GhqrNySAgc2VSEpXqlR4QuYSs4H7EOQqsYMeTnYJ2_LS8/s1600/Grace1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHyXHHRvjQHezRsa7FaoX6Rl0MmCvezyOMPrAYa2DxDLLRA5FS9dWf5wIxVzUCOEW_ABn7hjmAquWLA5Pc8t6y0nplR0ZV6GhqrNySAgc2VSEpXqlR4QuYSs4H7EOQqsYMeTnYJ2_LS8/s1600/Grace1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Granny Grace<br />
1924 - 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-25982229350885842402011-12-13T19:07:00.001+00:002012-03-10T08:53:20.483+00:00The Ugly DucklingIn the early hours on the 24th of July 2009 the stars aligned and things were set in motion that signified our 3rd child was readying herself to make her way into the world. We knew it was a girl. I wanted a girl. The A-Bomb was all the boy we could handle. Our only concern with having a girl was if she looked like the A-Bomb... he wouldn't make a very pretty girl.<br />
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Around lunch time Shemily graced us with her presence. She was beautiful.<br />
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However, over the next few weeks, as the hormones began to subside, the similarities between her and her brother became that much more perceptible to me. By the time she was a couple of weeks old she had fully transformed into the female version of our son! We consoled ourself with the belief that she would grow out of her changing looks and lean more towards her sister in the facial department.*<br />
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* Shemily, if you should read this in those awful years of adolescence, know this: we are exaggerating. You are beautiful no matter what we say, words can't bring you down. So don't you bring yourself down.... today.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5LccTEHte2iWJJtoheDGSPlK_PjMsAuN_piIdYfumrGQEpRlTVD2sGbMux0h4rhTinp5ZlLvt4HeJ8RonVWpqHHBTADZPkE9q4ci5lw0imGVjUprIt2dRx199nUbBiqz0SxahkjGz-Y/s1600/246x320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5LccTEHte2iWJJtoheDGSPlK_PjMsAuN_piIdYfumrGQEpRlTVD2sGbMux0h4rhTinp5ZlLvt4HeJ8RonVWpqHHBTADZPkE9q4ci5lw0imGVjUprIt2dRx199nUbBiqz0SxahkjGz-Y/s1600/246x320.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shemily's weight gain was a cause of concern<br />
to the health professionals.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwYVowJXj84X5tDPcJwmvc8_AFpXxrFS_XJanxRwouGKd_VyxsBPfFawkU5w5XEmy78r6wwelVlxKHYF3_XmOslvNTjsF-At7RjjDQL3FAQABQhsyrKFVUZ6qcMySfJzRZDkNk_y7Rug/s1600/082b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwYVowJXj84X5tDPcJwmvc8_AFpXxrFS_XJanxRwouGKd_VyxsBPfFawkU5w5XEmy78r6wwelVlxKHYF3_XmOslvNTjsF-At7RjjDQL3FAQABQhsyrKFVUZ6qcMySfJzRZDkNk_y7Rug/s1600/082b.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Although not conventionally beautiful, she was still able to<br />
woo many a passer-by based on personality and cheerful smile alone.</td></tr>
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<br />
It was around 12 months old that things began to change for the better.<br />
The doctors were right: by exercising her new found ability to walk the fat dissipated.<br />
Once the cheeks subsided we were able to see her real face.<br />
The black mohican she once sported in confidence was swept away as her locks turned to gold.<br />
The fountain of nasal exudate which seemed to be her life companion ceased to flow.<br />
By 18 months the transformation was complete.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XgRPU0XHf5Y/TvL_KxAuvOI/AAAAAAAAAVo/QCOpwhjB8r4/s1600/shemsaz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XgRPU0XHf5Y/TvL_KxAuvOI/AAAAAAAAAVo/QCOpwhjB8r4/s1600/shemsaz.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shemily Age 2:<br />
A delight in every conceivable way, the way she has always been.</td></tr>
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<br />Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-16715213655347149122011-11-29T22:19:00.000+00:002011-11-29T22:19:15.898+00:00Ditched!Last weekend my husband ditched me for some verifiable hours of CPD down in Bristol.<br />
Thankfully we had some replacements.....<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCe2gt3y3yH4SJowhlrWeMLw5LRj6b389UAvU93t-MpDOx5qig3QvuenWFw4RwU7nlirSM4CQQuAq-q6bX0FX1pfCzUkVkinJH2GfmfDM9aOyByIi0tXH4Y6KxldOgmj03hBAf6JbQt4/s1600/joe+and+claire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCe2gt3y3yH4SJowhlrWeMLw5LRj6b389UAvU93t-MpDOx5qig3QvuenWFw4RwU7nlirSM4CQQuAq-q6bX0FX1pfCzUkVkinJH2GfmfDM9aOyByIi0tXH4Y6KxldOgmj03hBAf6JbQt4/s1600/joe+and+claire.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Introducing Auntie Claire and Big Joe</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Claire and Joe are the perfect Aunt and Uncle combo. Auntie Claire is as merry as Santa Claus and has as much energy as a nuclear explosion, whilst Big Joe is robust enough to endure the continuous lashings of the Octonauts. Unfortunately they live in the darkest depths of Essex so we don't get to see them as often as we'd like. By Friday evening the kids were at bursting point with anticipation. The eventual ringing of the doorbell pressed a psychological trigger. The Octonauts exploded with glee and immediately launched an all-out offensive on Big Joe that lasted most of the weekend.<br />
<br />
In between the wrestling of Big Joe and the idolizing of St.Auntie Claire we had time to to sample some of the best attractions that Durham has to offer.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhULHRvVVh-OfDUZcPj3UG1j4UyvqyYII_DT2TLKMLK_KoHGWZqny56pL7EF_gN90vRm8Cg5l0I31crtreogbKa1XpQ3oss48PKVw9WqmcSBN7pL1UXvl5k4zNFvJQA-pAWgbc9rlrehGw/s1600/teacups2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhULHRvVVh-OfDUZcPj3UG1j4UyvqyYII_DT2TLKMLK_KoHGWZqny56pL7EF_gN90vRm8Cg5l0I31crtreogbKa1XpQ3oss48PKVw9WqmcSBN7pL1UXvl5k4zNFvJQA-pAWgbc9rlrehGw/s1600/teacups2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teacups in Market Square</td></tr>
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Thanks to Joe and Claire's 'accommodating' nature it wasn't untill Saturday evening that the kids realised their Dad was missing . Sunday afternoon they started the five hour journey home to Essex. Due to the damage sustained over the weekend, Joe's body would never be the same again.Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-55079161750537872592011-11-13T21:25:00.001+00:002011-11-13T21:25:29.220+00:00Reality CheckFor as long as I've known AC he's dreamed of celebrating his 30th birthday by chartering a boat in the Maldives for a once in a life time surfing session. His usual surfing haunt of the North Sea involves riding brown heavy slab-like waves in freezing conditions. Every piece of his exposed skin must be covered with unusually thick layers of neoprene to prevent death. In 'The Maldives Dream' he would be in shorts only, the suns rays warming his back, the cool water washing over his feet, gliding along hundreds of glassy blue waves with chattering dolphins as his guide.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcyB67YdtVMHNPqrGPqGz75KD44AhTwSlvKFOb0v3PuHNoyAarzO2Po5AI3NDpHpXbbh7ZXMaKppw_mzHglKxTsnfmNxs7tmSQvNCmeHzahYWf7dctFncTySd4_J93vRbOQnOzpPGOV0g/s1600/surf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcyB67YdtVMHNPqrGPqGz75KD44AhTwSlvKFOb0v3PuHNoyAarzO2Po5AI3NDpHpXbbh7ZXMaKppw_mzHglKxTsnfmNxs7tmSQvNCmeHzahYWf7dctFncTySd4_J93vRbOQnOzpPGOV0g/s1600/surf.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sennen 2008 - the nearest AC got to his dream</td></tr>
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Everyone likes a dream. This dream conceived by a niave young man of 22 may be acceptable enough, but by thirty this man should know that our finances are destined for other things... like petrol, nappies, and transformers. However, being the perpetual optimist that he is he clung on to this dream like a child to it's blanket. It was time for a reality check.<br />
<br />
Reality has its own natural way of asserting itself, like it did for AC that Thursday morning he turned 30. Instead of waking up to blissful sunshine and the sound of the gentle waves lapping on the hull of the yacht - he was greeted by the unearthly howls of a shrieking A-bomb on a dark morning in County Durham. The dream was shattered like a wave upon the sand.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTI2fak1nc-5Ecyhngh3FAeuSc3azqdDGQMRn7DEo8WckhRXbgFCtNamGtwJL1Wzb4e7XlyXYSUsaAIRfMbSJPsjklrViGQz6SDq7m4dB98damzXqny9Nw3DanFvFjeZ_L7Jz6FfIR8g/s1600/IMG_5883.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTI2fak1nc-5Ecyhngh3FAeuSc3azqdDGQMRn7DEo8WckhRXbgFCtNamGtwJL1Wzb4e7XlyXYSUsaAIRfMbSJPsjklrViGQz6SDq7m4dB98damzXqny9Nw3DanFvFjeZ_L7Jz6FfIR8g/s1600/IMG_5883.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The same face his dad pulled on waking up</td></tr>
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Despite my lack of Maldive bound plane tickets I tried to put on as good a show as possible. I purchased the obligatory coco pops for breakfast. And because it's an extra special birthday I bought some all butter coissonts as well. Although I couldn't put alot of money into his gift I could still put alot of thought into it; memory foam pillows- two of them. To help bring added comfort to his ageing body (and stop his incessant complaining at the current quality of pillows on our bed).<br />
<br />
His ride that morning wasn't a short-board on a blue barrelling wave, it was his '53 reg VW polo. As he departed for work I sensed his meloncholy, the pillows didn't go down as well as I'd hoped. I knew I'd have to do better so I spent the day wearing the kids out to ensure a smooth bedtime routine on the evening. There would be no jumping on the bed, hiding under the bed, or sneaking out of bed. And no crying, screaming, or laughing at their dad. <br />
<br />
AC returned that evening to a calm and serene home. The kids were sleeping soundly and I was slaving away over his birthday meal. Whilst I laboured away AC recounted his day to me. 'Work' it seemed had been rather generous in their gift giving... a little too generous. Whilst I was trying in my own loving way to show my appreciation for AC on his birthday, not to mention producing this...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpmLTpUURp825xcwvTUoCUH4JKSuUtsQCM6CsMRWZlNg485oBaY22_4aj6WbCd4Iz5vCZ8ZvUYZN_0F-MFUmQHGcErlzvg9i7dm51zXs1UlXkZq_hBxltE_dCRcDKjUJ4xZ7c12MGKq0/s1600/420a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpmLTpUURp825xcwvTUoCUH4JKSuUtsQCM6CsMRWZlNg485oBaY22_4aj6WbCd4Iz5vCZ8ZvUYZN_0F-MFUmQHGcErlzvg9i7dm51zXs1UlXkZq_hBxltE_dCRcDKjUJ4xZ7c12MGKq0/s1600/420a.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For someone of my culinary skills this took an exceptional amount<br />
of time and concentration.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
'Work' had rallied together to present him with this...<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwRXeqWW6-EysPwHjlJymoigQnqUVC6m9F5MKn8Y9O4XnyhFuXoDaDhu3u_y2HHueHF0-icIUGYZjYZTeZ2tPCGgWdSSZUKfWZ2rYOmOVK6Y-xDKV-G5wPwzaZ1nIQ4pf6DQ6JRUzwAOU/s1600/420b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwRXeqWW6-EysPwHjlJymoigQnqUVC6m9F5MKn8Y9O4XnyhFuXoDaDhu3u_y2HHueHF0-icIUGYZjYZTeZ2tPCGgWdSSZUKfWZ2rYOmOVK6Y-xDKV-G5wPwzaZ1nIQ4pf6DQ6JRUzwAOU/s1600/420b.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A blummin Helicopter Ride</td></tr>
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<div>Outdone by 'Work'. Great.</div>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-70944087674933965112011-10-16T19:44:00.001+01:002011-10-25T20:39:43.195+01:00The Family DentistI note some discolouration of Missy's front tooth. The headache begins, the dizziness follows, and I have to steady myself.<br />
<br />
What is that spot on Shemily's left incisor? My breathing quickens, I feel faint, and I have to sit down.<br />
<br />
The A-Bomb claims his teeth hurt! The palpitations start, a sweaty episode is upon me, and I have to lie down.<br />
<br />
This is my biggest fear. DECAY.<br />
AC is a dentist - his kids can't have rotten teeth!<br />
Their dad had booked them in for a check-up. As the appointment drew near my anxieties worsened. I began to regret every sneaky treat and sugary bribe that had ever passed the children's lips. The time eventually came for me to face the consequences of the sucrose behavioural therapy I had employed with such frequency. It was a grey and miserable day that we made the journey to AC's place of work. I was anxious and the kids were hyper (with excitement... not sugar). Not many people like going to the dentist and the sight of AC in his dental tunic armed with motorized instruments was deeply uncomfortable for me.<br />
<br />
First in the chair was Missy. Understandably a little apprehensive after <a href="http://leftbythetide.blogspot.com/2011/04/say-cheese.html">her last visit to the dentist</a>, she took all of 30 seconds to succumb to her dads charm. She loved having her teeth tickled and was rewarded with not one, but two princess stickers.<br />
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Up next was the A-Bomb. Eager would be an understatement. He launched himself into the chair and prepared for blast-off. With his space goggles on he was ready for the mission to commence. Laying perfectly still he giggled the whole way through his check.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyAsMXKSJ1Ojg4q-2zjqLBP3p9Bk3DPMX86G4VOtvPlX-To10SFHD0WVZGrV_Op5et7Ggz03aaC17GMHNHd38tyx5p6oZUxrKU79eJWYNBhPquOFhrxo9IO7FAx5x-alExRq06tcrMWU/s1600/IMGP2474a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyAsMXKSJ1Ojg4q-2zjqLBP3p9Bk3DPMX86G4VOtvPlX-To10SFHD0WVZGrV_Op5et7Ggz03aaC17GMHNHd38tyx5p6oZUxrKU79eJWYNBhPquOFhrxo9IO7FAx5x-alExRq06tcrMWU/s1600/IMGP2474a.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't know who was enjoying themselves more.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Shemily wouldn't even sit on the chair, or look at her dad, but was happy to take the stickers on offer and run. The little tinker.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My fears were washed away like mouthwash down the spitoon. AC gave us a clean bill of oral health and we were all caries free, at least until April 2012. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">AC felt it necessary given the nature of this post to include some basic dental advice, but I said no. Seeing his disappointment I buoyed his spirits by agreeing that if anyone should ask any dental related questions in the comments section, he can answer them. Geek.</div>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-34184202736039677462011-09-09T18:47:00.000+01:002011-09-09T18:47:38.763+01:00In Vogue<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The moment breakfast was finished Missy disappeared up to her bedroom and into her 'changing room'. She reappeared a few minutes later adorned in this seasons most sought after outfit - The School Uniform. To Missy's dismay the school dress code prohibits the wearing of jewellery, but being the trend setter that she is (to her sister), Missy accessorised her latest ensemble with the help of a permanent marker. She 'tatooed' her freshly bathed body with thick black markings. Thankfully most were hidden by her cardigan because not even wet wipes could remove her rebellious scribblings... so it was with high spirits she finished readying herself for her first day of school.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEmSVwZRzKbiUWUS5UatmKfCpd0JVYeFI8J8B0KzGZuXKrMG5U-zsiG_2WK6cv787YuHKtAbL7of0h3Wj6XPxRRf5ss8oLQnVMMsfCwmtSRyecRqgV6qtDEJylV90wIE3WJGNov5CfCI/s1600/school4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEmSVwZRzKbiUWUS5UatmKfCpd0JVYeFI8J8B0KzGZuXKrMG5U-zsiG_2WK6cv787YuHKtAbL7of0h3Wj6XPxRRf5ss8oLQnVMMsfCwmtSRyecRqgV6qtDEJylV90wIE3WJGNov5CfCI/s1600/school4.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
The walk to school was a pleasure. Despite being along a main road, the only collision was between the scooter borne A-Bomb and the pavement.<br />
<br />
Once in the school playground it was as though I had released a captured guinea pig. Missy vented her excitement by scurrying around the playground at high speed. You would have thought she'd be hard to keep an eye on in a playground full of children dressed exactly the same, but her high pitched squeals made her easier to track.<br />
The school bell rang.<br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It was with a twinkle in her eye and a tear in mine that we parted. Missy is not naturally confident in new situations and seeing my little girl so full excitement in spite of her apprehensions left me bursting with pride.</div>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-60873311802993872422011-08-23T19:15:00.000+01:002011-08-23T19:15:21.607+01:00The Alnwick GardenWe decided to take the kids somewhere special, somewhere other than the play park, the garden centre, or the nearby field. We had our sights set on The Alnwick Garden. But it's hard to 'big up' an outing to a garden to a 2, 3, and 5 year old. Our announcement of this special trip went down like a lead balloon.<br />
<br />
Once there, our first stop was The Serpent Garden; a winding of bushes with a different water sculpture around every bend. It didn't take long for the kids sullen moods to give way to pure excitement.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOuFC0aAOnYK3iBeP28e8FjPfSdkMG-kCV4Jm-ebsZHOLeqCVp2kyKKWyJq14KEmWUGWRQh4X93J7Ss0h9KmRspiAcDWE-2Fr0JEgCmFEA-wo-wOKw3nfy5GHT-OwltC6wiFf4A2YFPY/s1600/IMG_7313a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOuFC0aAOnYK3iBeP28e8FjPfSdkMG-kCV4Jm-ebsZHOLeqCVp2kyKKWyJq14KEmWUGWRQh4X93J7Ss0h9KmRspiAcDWE-2Fr0JEgCmFEA-wo-wOKw3nfy5GHT-OwltC6wiFf4A2YFPY/s1600/IMG_7313a.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"In some species, mothers eat their young"<br />
Quote by AC</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuR3DlQs4eXjD1rVi-OcqzMD_7IrYXlu2vTIo4gErFUsCV2v_L3Ug6cEcJnJq3SNch-BpWjpDH1vWs4wX78A_Kmm-bQWua-bj4rhkI2uPQxREfsTmZd905RN8gHQhEqrZV1iIV03VkAg/s1600/IMG_7310a.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuR3DlQs4eXjD1rVi-OcqzMD_7IrYXlu2vTIo4gErFUsCV2v_L3Ug6cEcJnJq3SNch-BpWjpDH1vWs4wX78A_Kmm-bQWua-bj4rhkI2uPQxREfsTmZd905RN8gHQhEqrZV1iIV03VkAg/s1600/IMG_7310a.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once the kids were sufficiently soaked we went in search of more fun, though nothing could compare to the enjoyment they found in being cold and wet. The rest of our time was shared out between The Bamboo Labyrinth, The Rose Garden, finding discreet places to let the children wee, and The Cherry Orchard.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But we couldn't take the kids home without first letting them partake of the fun to be had on the diggers. This was easier said than done. There were eight diggers to be shared amongst the thousands of visitors. Kids can be savage-like when put under such strain. Thankfully The A-Bomb is no different and he was able to secure himself a digger.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuEZnP_judd7y3fPb62dITtY9DdNL6CQnusTak5fJyBqjOje4MiWkC5lf8pJxP7q1mt8ybaUlSxpPZSP6YnmXwGqwwOZPJCGN26vJP_DH8zNBGs5zUD6SzppS8uNJgWZcADSr2M8uX0MA/s1600/IMG_7524a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuEZnP_judd7y3fPb62dITtY9DdNL6CQnusTak5fJyBqjOje4MiWkC5lf8pJxP7q1mt8ybaUlSxpPZSP6YnmXwGqwwOZPJCGN26vJP_DH8zNBGs5zUD6SzppS8uNJgWZcADSr2M8uX0MA/s1600/IMG_7524a.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-66020518557746630392011-08-14T19:36:00.001+01:002011-08-14T19:39:38.904+01:00Literary Classics<div>We're keen readers in our house. The most sought after books in our home at the moment are: <i>North and South </i>by Elizabeth Gaskell, <i>Moonfleet</i> by John Meade Faulkner<i>, The Troll </i>by Julia Donaldson, and <i>The Great Tiger Rescue </i>by Missy Kingprawn.</div><div><br />
</div><div>This weekend we discovered a hot new favourite... </div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvwBrzdmcEbOsPToCtyA0HceuFpE1kffS5OFwa1nf-si12jLKVFhZyzQXJ2ZnwveuMNsli2ZXjeU6XXtFX9k_EzcmTHsF7kSW8SteAG52KCUJo9ounRaFtvcbxuYJtMfP6HJ9OpuM-ufg/s1600/IMG_7190a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvwBrzdmcEbOsPToCtyA0HceuFpE1kffS5OFwa1nf-si12jLKVFhZyzQXJ2ZnwveuMNsli2ZXjeU6XXtFX9k_EzcmTHsF7kSW8SteAG52KCUJo9ounRaFtvcbxuYJtMfP6HJ9OpuM-ufg/s1600/IMG_7190a.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Argos Catalogue</i></td></tr>
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</div><div>He's rather protective over it, spends hours browsing it, and even requested it as his bed time story this evening. </div>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-51928413006949147312011-08-04T22:04:00.000+01:002011-08-04T22:04:53.416+01:00InfestationDespite having lived in this house for nigh on 3 months, The A-Bomb is still getting use to it's layout. Yet again he ran full speed into one of the walls and banged his head. I scooped the little blonde bullet into my arms and took him for a cuddle on the sofa- not that he needed it (his head has taken harder knocks than that) but I'll take any excuse for a cuddle.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">September 2010: The A-Bombs head did this to the car windowscreen.....<br />
no tears were shed.</td></tr>
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On inspection there was no sign of any injury, but there, amongst his soft blonde locks was a HEADLOUSE. Whilst informing the A-Bomb of the discovery Missy informs me that "I had one of those in my hair and I just flicked it away". Whilst congratulating Missy on being so pragmatic, I immediately checked her hair.<br />
<br />
I had identified the host.<br />
<br />
I was feeling a little flustered. I knew this time would come but still felt the shock that comes from discovering your childrens heads are infested with blood sucking insects. <br />
It was moments later that I evacuated the kids into the car and departed for the pharmacy in search of a cure.<br />
Walking out of the store with a bottle of Hedrin left me feeling slightly relieved, but I was itching to get this stuff on the kids heads and eliminate the parasites.<br />
<br />
I had to bide my time though because it needed to be left to work over night and it was not yet time for bed. In the mean time I put the comb to good use. The A-Bomb didn't yield any more. The Host however needed alot more attention. Each comb rendered a good haul. Great satisfaction comes from capturing the mites and I soon found that I was actually begninning to enjoy the task and it was with a bit of annoyance that I had to stop due to Missy's protestations. It had been like an hour or something though.<br />
<br />
As bedtime approached we prepared the kids for what lay ahead. Missy loves creepy crawlies and couldn't understand why we would want to rid her scalp of the friendly woodlouse. Bless. The A-Bomb was petrified and the only way to get compliance was with bribary. Shemily didn't have a clue what was going on and smiled the whole time.<br />
<br />
Once the kids heads had been doused in Hedrin and they were tucked up in bed it was my turn. AC did the honours. Having my hair combed and then having the lotion massaged in was heavenly, I felt like I was being pampered at some expensive la de da spa. I could of let it go on forever but it obviously wasn't the same relaxing experience for AC. Once the job was done things came to an abrupt stop.<br />
<br />
Summary: Headlice aren't too bad- there are some subtle perks. More irriating than the headlice was parting with the £12.73 for the Hedrin Lotion. Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-8462045959149524022011-07-28T22:12:00.002+01:002011-07-29T16:54:03.186+01:00Opposites Attract<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I'm a Southerner and I married a Northerner. We've had to work even harder at our marriage to overcome the differences that result from being raised at opposite ends of the country. We've managed to adapt and respect each of our respective heritages and associated attitudes.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As far as our children go...</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Missy</b> was born in South Shields yet is decidedly Southern. She speaks like the Queen and corrects her auntie's poor sentence construction. This pedantic use of the English language and articulate expression is one of her more southern qualities.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>The A-Bomb</b> was born in Milton Keynes General Hospital yet displays a host of Northern characteristics - he is gregarious, boisterous and loud.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Oxford born <b>Shemily</b> is in the early stages of construction and we cannot determine at this stage any indication of her character preference. We will refer to her simply as 'The Hybrid' for the rest of this entry.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Having only just relocated to the Durham the differences between the North and South are that much more perceptible...</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Although Down South we have regional accents, someone from Welwyn Garden City can still understand someone from The Big City (London). But up North, living more than 10 minutes away from someone can render them incomprehensible. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Since arriving in Durham, Missy with her 'posh' pronunciation, has encountered her own problems in understanding the local dialect - she starts school in September and this will surely help her to become more fluent in what she calls 'Durhamish'. The A-Bomb on the other hand has already adopted the use of 'mam' rather than 'mum'. The Hybrids infantile mutterings cross all langauage boundaries and she continues to melt peoples hearts regardless of their faith, race or origin.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
</div></div>A common trait of people living this near the Scottish border is how friendly they are to strangers. Southerners are admittedly a bit more reserved; appreciative of one another's privacy we are more cautious in our conversational gambits. As refreshing as the camaraderie<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4d4e51; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px;"> </span></span>is, it takes a bit of getting use to. Whenever addressed, it takes me by surprise, my only response is to stare back with a blank expression. If the addresser maintains eye contact long enough I can usually manage a smile.<br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As you can imagine such friendly people produce great customer service. It's like having your own personal shopper in every store I go into. Friendliness is part of every job description up here - to be a checkout assistant requires that you be able to hold 10 minute long conversations with people you don't even know (All very well and good unless your the next person in the queue and in a rush).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The A-Bomb fits right in- the little socialite revels in the attention he can get from total randomers.<br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Another major difference is the price of stuff, especially food. Not good for my waist line! Down South a large bap for £4.00 will satisfy only a toddlers appetite. Whilst Up North a medium sized stottie filled beyond any Southerners imagination for the modest price of £1.60 can keep an active adult full from lunch until supper. Bargain.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwcNGYxZoWpZLIAxZBWFN6hVJHQoC3kNLKO8NEoQHMDPq2qhyphenhyphenl8LOOIS_j4NfguIMjTSggyDB3MtN9O5WHr3BeUSifVIk9W7-LWPq-ObFI-D0wDDUJzQxSSkT5nFVZFVvs3v7EHASbm8/s1600/house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwcNGYxZoWpZLIAxZBWFN6hVJHQoC3kNLKO8NEoQHMDPq2qhyphenhyphenl8LOOIS_j4NfguIMjTSggyDB3MtN9O5WHr3BeUSifVIk9W7-LWPq-ObFI-D0wDDUJzQxSSkT5nFVZFVvs3v7EHASbm8/s1600/house.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Houses are more affordable Up North</td></tr>
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</div>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-11342327563105180922011-06-20T20:38:00.001+01:002011-06-20T20:38:31.043+01:00Fathers DayAC's most treasured wedding gift was the George Foreman grill we recieved. Like a child with their favourite toy he could be found at any hour of the day experimenting with it. Nothing gave him more pleasure than to see the fat dripping from the grill into the catchment dish and onto the kitchen bench. Unfortunately he didn't have the same enthusiasm for cleaning up after it.<br />
<br />
Such 'lazy' behaviour was uncharachteristic of AC. Once a professional cleaner, he has never been one to shy away from a grotty job. Dirty toilet, filthy oven, stinky drains... he's onto it. His product selection is faultless and I'm in awe of his cleaning capabilities.<br />
<br />
Anyways, you can imagine how irritating it was having to clean up these fatty deposits. I feared if left unchecked such behaviour might spill over into other tasks. One day I might find myself having to clean the oven! I needed to to nip things in the bud and make an example of this behavior. <br />
I issued AC with a warning. <em>Clean up your act or else</em>.<br />
But he took no heed and his fatty habit continued.<br />
I gave him a further ultimatum. <em>Clean it or lose it</em>.<br />
<br />
Still relatively new in marriage I wondered how AC would recieve my assertiveness. Would he take me seriously or take it as an empty threat? I didn't believe he'd want to risk anything happening to his precious grill and was sure I'd see some improvement.<br />
But I didn't.<br />
<br />
So I threw the George Foreman out.<br />
<br />
Although it improved the quality of my life I'm not sure it improved the quality of our relationship. Nearly seven years on and he still finds many an opportunity to bring up this little incident. I do feel some regret though, mostly because it was a handy little appliance and was capable of producing a mean toastie.<br />
<br />
AC's not easy to buy for and having shared 8 years of Birthdays and Christmases together I'm rather low on ideas for gifts. Fathers Day would have provided the perfect opportunity to make amends for the past. I came incredibly close to purchasing him the 2 portion compact grill. But I couldn't get the image of crusty hot plates and lumps of hardened fat all over the kitchen work tops out of my head. So instead he got this delightful bundle of goodies.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq6JF4N70-fQMBfi0sDKpKoppe8kIgCTGtqV9mxhaQCVj9GSbgORnfVEhZAU81zm4sAhlVN0PayBCVa2jq5Lmgi88rsCi8Zl-pFAw21GZpLs5laXRvxQTJKDwgnRUwn6kUR-JOOIqquaE/s1600/IMG_6283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq6JF4N70-fQMBfi0sDKpKoppe8kIgCTGtqV9mxhaQCVj9GSbgORnfVEhZAU81zm4sAhlVN0PayBCVa2jq5Lmgi88rsCi8Zl-pFAw21GZpLs5laXRvxQTJKDwgnRUwn6kUR-JOOIqquaE/s640/IMG_6283.JPG" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AC loves microfibre cloths.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-8864088177988858022011-06-18T17:38:00.000+01:002011-06-18T17:38:32.110+01:00Moving - Chapter 3<b>Our New Home</b><br />
<div><br />
</div><div>It was with tears in our eyes that we left Oxford. It was where our children had grown from being babies to toddlers to children. So many happy memories contained in each square foot. Although we never liked the fireplace, it was home. The Octonauts would never know the spectrum of emotions felt behind the door that we closed for the last time that evening.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdB8hmhEZJJ6GdThwGu_r4VvNGjqBYBjkHkcw6k28kInDUZTEVrYWbyZHKFodiXf9olX-jow6psE-KNvE0Grxz0hHheqer70_gMUFaq92hv1Q812f4QGtDqFAdfG4LeNY71lB0QnWlB_g/s1600/IMG_6014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdB8hmhEZJJ6GdThwGu_r4VvNGjqBYBjkHkcw6k28kInDUZTEVrYWbyZHKFodiXf9olX-jow6psE-KNvE0Grxz0hHheqer70_gMUFaq92hv1Q812f4QGtDqFAdfG4LeNY71lB0QnWlB_g/s400/IMG_6014.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
With it being 2 hours past the kids bedtime they slept the whole way to South Shields. Thank goodness, I don't think our nerves could of taken any more of a bashing after the day we'd just had. Usually I would have had concerns about myself falling asleep also, which would have been a problem as I was the designated driver for the evening. But these days I have a little trick up my sleeve. I just doubled my dose of thyroxine for the day! Not only was I not sleepy, but come midnight I was as alert as The A-Bomb after a sugar fix.<br />
<br />
</div><div></div><div>The next morning we awoke in 'Sunny' South Shields. With family at the ready to look after the Octonauts, AC and I could focus our energies on getting through the day in one piece. Before heading over to Durham we popped to 'The Nook' (a quaint cosmopolitan shopping precinct) for a quick bite to eat. We let the A-Bomb tag along.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEittCaQt6M2w5mPkGey-Z85Szp9J2nMWIp1TWyohbOmnuKGgfHMBEmtCOf0JHTvGUlmxTTc7ObxitOnXzJR5YSA5gErwZBW5NZ25qwWWPMpRFo4lGWO2p1HIJv4hHNjogf6zQ7LJmrMBCs/s1600/IMG_6016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEittCaQt6M2w5mPkGey-Z85Szp9J2nMWIp1TWyohbOmnuKGgfHMBEmtCOf0JHTvGUlmxTTc7ObxitOnXzJR5YSA5gErwZBW5NZ25qwWWPMpRFo4lGWO2p1HIJv4hHNjogf6zQ7LJmrMBCs/s400/IMG_6016.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div><div>The penalty for exceeding the designated weight limit of a vehicle is a fine and the vehicle would obviously have to off-load some of it's goods. If the vehicle is dangerous it can be impounded! (We know this because we were warned by more than one other moving company in our initial search) You can imagine what a relief it was when half way through the morning we got a text from The Expert saying they were passing Nottingham by.<br />
<br />
</div><div>Once our new landlord had given us the keys to our new home, the waiting began. My imagination soon began to go into overdrive. They should have been here by now...<br />
Aaron's phone rings.<br />
It's them.<br />
They're lost!<br />
In Durham somewhere.<br />
Hallelujah. This is great news. I can breathe again. I can smile again. They're almost here.<br />
Soon they arrive and we all get the van unpacked. The only problem we encounter is that our sofa's don't fit up the stairs (we've moved to one of those modern town houses where the living room is on the middle floor). But who cares at least we have them, here, with us, with all our other things, well - except those things we had to leave behind.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZIN7j7YoB8e7UoupWdqreAu_hYWsysirOxAd1_SaoW0AZz4Uadzt_33wbhlvjhumsoG2TbePn6I7lrNtG-Wc5-djm2uKYK0xFqaO642-RtdeCP7LlTD-WaXqaNa9-4lDzwRmAoYFNzo/s1600/IMG_6034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZIN7j7YoB8e7UoupWdqreAu_hYWsysirOxAd1_SaoW0AZz4Uadzt_33wbhlvjhumsoG2TbePn6I7lrNtG-Wc5-djm2uKYK0xFqaO642-RtdeCP7LlTD-WaXqaNa9-4lDzwRmAoYFNzo/s400/IMG_6034.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the things left behind was our dust pan and brush,<br />
thankfully Shemily had remembered hers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-80626023030601064092011-06-15T18:38:00.001+01:002011-06-15T21:18:46.243+01:00Moving: Chapter 2<b>The Big Day</b><br />
<br />
The Expert and his entourage of helpers arrive with their really BIG van. As well as redefining the meaning of big, this van is also so rusty<b> </b>and old that the only place it should be headed is the scrapyard (not 250 miles away to Durham). Alarm bells start to reverberate around my head.<br />
<br />
They come inside and take a fresh look at our stuff - which is now all boxed up and waiting patiently in the living room. Jaws drop and silence ensues. I pretend it's because they're impressed with my packing skills, and not because they're overwhelmed by how much stuff we actually have.<br />
<br />
The entourage follow their leader outside where they stare into the back of the van and contemplate the task ahead. The van begins to roll away! As I watch them chase their van down the street the Alarm bells in my head get louder.<br />
<br />
They begin packing. This is a good sign. One of the members of the entourage is The Experts older brother and he has 7 years packing experience. If anyone can make this miracle happen it's him. But just incase he can't I muster the courage to find out what they're back up plan is.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
"So... have you got another van you can go and get, in case it doesn't all fit in?" I ask</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">"No" replied Little Brother<br />
"How were you able to make the original quote of 2 vans?"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">"I was just going to rent one"<br />
"So what other vehicles do you have then?"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">"A Ford Galaxy"</div><br />
I don't ask anymore questions.<br />
The packing continues.<br />
It looks like they might actually pull this off.<br />
While Big brother aserts himself in actually trying to fit everything into the van, The Expert takes a differrent approach in trying to get the job done...<br />
<br />
"I'm happy to take some stuff to the dump for you" he says. "Like this" he continues, pointing at the kids play kitchen, " I mean do you really want that?"<br />
<br />
Both AC and I struggle to find words.<br />
<br />
Eventually the van is packed and bulging full. Even the foot well in the passenger cabin is crammed with princess dolls and plastic food. The back shutter can't even be shut properly, though that isn't a surprise considering the state of the van. The van is obviously above the legal weight limit and looking as suspicious as it does we keep our fingers crossed that it doesn't attract the polices attention on it's journey up.<br />
<br />
As impressive a performance as Big Brother has given we will still have to make a return journey for the few remaining items. They agree to put whats left into storage for us for no extra charge. How kind.<br />
<br />
Now all that's left to do is drive up north. Have a good nights sleep. Pick up the keys to our new digs. And hope the van makes it there too.Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-64471176019238453152011-06-06T20:09:00.000+01:002011-06-06T20:09:53.425+01:00Moving: Chapter 1<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>How to Choose your Removal Company</b><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">If you can get something for less why pay more? Unless we're talking about baked beans in which case it's always advisable to buy Heinz. But if it's a staple or tea cakes you're after then Value it is. We applied this rule of economy in the choosing of a removal company for our recent move. We wanted a 'no frills' service and readily accepted the company who provided us with the lowest quote.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">A guy came to our house to make a quick assessment to make sure everything would fit into the 2 vans we'd been quoted for. He seems a nice chap, friendly and all. I show him around.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“I can do this in one van” he reckons.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“Really?” I exclaim in unbelief.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“You've not got that much stuff” he adds.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“Really?” I repeat.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Granted the house, due to pre-moving preparations, is the tidiest it's been in our 3 years there. Everything is in it's place, we've already packed a few boxes up, and I've been throwing things out on the sly for the past month or so. But we still have a lot of stuff; mostly toys and bonsai trees admittedly.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The guy obviously notices my scepticism.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“We've got a BIG van” he emphasises.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“Really?” I question</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“Yeah - it's a luton box”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">He's obviously mistaken my scepticism for stupidity. I know how 'big' a Luton box van is and I still struggle to envisage all the contents of a 4 bedroom house fitting in. But he should know...</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“Your The Expert” I concede.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
We're given a slightly cheaper quote for the omission of a van.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The deal is sealed and the date is set. Now all that's left to do is wait. And pack.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4D1Ft7YqZ2_L86-sI1JDNcXmDA7LeJoWJA3RmRZLlO_um8PMfyJJ-kepRHrUE2zVDvNSNTab17Oz_6YKv1teCoohEco8RXlTMZA6uA1Ios8qEHV3IkorF0dDW1y1cdq0Uz9_SsRgyWDU/s1600/IMG_5928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4D1Ft7YqZ2_L86-sI1JDNcXmDA7LeJoWJA3RmRZLlO_um8PMfyJJ-kepRHrUE2zVDvNSNTab17Oz_6YKv1teCoohEco8RXlTMZA6uA1Ios8qEHV3IkorF0dDW1y1cdq0Uz9_SsRgyWDU/s400/IMG_5928.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Packing'</td></tr>
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</div></div>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629529553984179473.post-39702605833059181062011-05-15T18:36:00.001+01:002011-05-16T07:17:11.157+01:00Peacock AwarenessWe're regulars at Harcourt Arboretum (part of the botanical gardens in Oxford). This is Oxfordshire's own little garden of Eden. Vibrant flowers arranged amongst lush trees in a place of tranquillity is more than we can resist.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6zuKaN6lFXyCtUejT7YPpHdNb_RH8Hgvt_yD2z0hPpwcfUHGgQFA7EYzWsW8zT9JqHBYlm_WbkwGdV3x_eJRM0ZJnTKOelkSWwHW2tXDRBZhh4ewiabwdapNGXNz-sDnXjzkz9BPoNE/s1600/IMG_5790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6zuKaN6lFXyCtUejT7YPpHdNb_RH8Hgvt_yD2z0hPpwcfUHGgQFA7EYzWsW8zT9JqHBYlm_WbkwGdV3x_eJRM0ZJnTKOelkSWwHW2tXDRBZhh4ewiabwdapNGXNz-sDnXjzkz9BPoNE/s400/IMG_5790.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
But the best thing about the arboretum is the peacocks. They roam as and where they please, hide under bushes, lurk up the tress, and captivate us completely. We can't help following (AC calls it harassing) them. Understandably they usually try to shake us off, but on our most recent visit we came across a beautiful fellow who seemed to take a liking to us. Maybe he fancied me. Possibly he was attracted to Beth's peacock impersonation. Maybe he liked Adams aroma. Whatever the reason we were enjoying it's company. The kids named him 'Catch It'.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh475v8r5KUbUmNu8h8XKqSjSHZXosE8IcjNf1a2bLRdlhWqTbc4Z0rrN9u8ooiSiPfObjeRl4ES25bjBde5GGgXJU8jxBTnjF-1AbhzO0m-M45tKAhrie04fYYNFPYlAxRncWQUPVOjoU/s1600/IMG_5765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh475v8r5KUbUmNu8h8XKqSjSHZXosE8IcjNf1a2bLRdlhWqTbc4Z0rrN9u8ooiSiPfObjeRl4ES25bjBde5GGgXJU8jxBTnjF-1AbhzO0m-M45tKAhrie04fYYNFPYlAxRncWQUPVOjoU/s400/IMG_5765.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AC warned me that although peacocks are beautiful,<br />
they are still wildfowl like any other fat goose.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
It was eventually time to move on. AC led the way. Missy and the A-Bomb sprinted after him. Shemily's sausage legs prevented her from keeping up and she was left behind. I reached out my hand to her as encouragement, and as I did so I noticed our new friend 'Catch It' launch an attack on the weakest member of the family. As quick and deadly as a bullet he sped towards the vulnerable Shemily. Thankfully my split second reflexes saved her. I barely made it to Shemily before 'Catch It' and managed to pull her out of the way, all be it by the neck, before his beak or claws made contact. Shocked and shaken up I made a hasty retreat to the rest of the family. AC's reaction: I warned you!<br />
<br />
I echo AC's words of wisdom. Be warned that Peacocks are not the friendly genteel birds their outward appearance portrays. Rather they're killers that watch to catch any small unsuspecting victim off guard (This was also confirmed at a falconry display only the next day at Warwick Castle).<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgAxhZGgcFqxHXdR3NBaoBDB0K7kHDti5FGHz_2FrNZBWjArK1FtYWAw2hSA8HbniVxtBl3CfvkGzomokwYIzl-N8W86sCAReTmMhRwLDGf-ZM-dHc-J522mAUmTNGFqNuoeqnQCYYBB0/s1600/IMG_5787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgAxhZGgcFqxHXdR3NBaoBDB0K7kHDti5FGHz_2FrNZBWjArK1FtYWAw2hSA8HbniVxtBl3CfvkGzomokwYIzl-N8W86sCAReTmMhRwLDGf-ZM-dHc-J522mAUmTNGFqNuoeqnQCYYBB0/s400/IMG_5787.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shemily in close proximity to a very real threat.<br />
Apparently warning us, not flirting with us.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315581507575308110noreply@blogger.com1